


The Solace of Tea

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bonding, Christmas Isn't Canon, Comfort, Future Fic, Garcia Flynn is a Good Man, Gen, Nightmares, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: For awhile, they sit in silence, not quite comfortable. The man has made no secret of his hatred for her, of how much he would like her to be anywhere else. (She can't say she blames him.) So to have him sitting next to her, keeping her company, is more than a little surreal.





	The Solace of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm really fascinated by the potential dynamics between Jessica and Flynn. After all, in ways, they aren't so different. They've both done things they regret in service of a cause they believe in. (They're also both insanely snarky.) So I wanted to explore what that could look like.
> 
> This is set in a future where Jessica has come back to the bunker, on a strictly probationary basis, because she doesn't want her child to grow up involved in Rittenhouse, and the others agree. 
> 
> Also, I've never been pregnant, but I've heard that it's pretty common for pregnant women to have nightmares, and with the life she's lived, I'm sure Jessica has plenty of nightmare fuel. Don't worry, though: I don't describe the nightmares too graphically. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas.

The first night, he steadfastly ignores her.    
  
Well, that isn't quite true. She can feel his eyes lingering on her, sharp and assessing, from across the room. Probably trying to determine if she's a threat, or if she's plotting some evil scheme. (And it's not that she blames him, but... She hardly has the energy to get up these days, much less plot, and she just wants to be treated like a person again. Maybe she deserves this, but she still hates it.)    
  
The second and third nights aren't much different. He lingers in the kitchen until she goes to bed, keeping quiet watch, but he never actually speaks to her.    
  
But when the fourth night rolls around...    
  
He groans, but when she glances at him, he's not looking at her. For the first time since her return to the bunker, he actually has his back to her. She could question the implications of that, if maybe he’s starting to trust her, but it's late, and she's tired. So she turns back to "Jeopardy," ignoring him in turn.    
  
A few short minutes later, he materializes by her side, holding a mug out to her.   
  
"I can't have coffee," she reminds him, and he sighs.    
  
"It's chamomile." His voice is flat, resigned, and she turns to him curiously. Takes the drink, savoring the warmth against her palms. It's always freezing in this bunker, no matter how many sweaters she wraps herself in.   
  
"Thank you." She takes a tentative sip, and a smile tugs at her lips. For a dangerous killer, he does make some amazing tea. (Of course, "dangerous killer" could probably describe her as well, if she stops to think about it. Not that she particularly cares to.)    
  
For awhile, they sit in silence, not quite comfortable. The man has made no secret of his hatred for her, of how much he would like her to be anywhere else. (She can't say she blames him.) So to have him sitting next to her, keeping her company, is more than a little surreal. But she can't bring herself to question it, not when his presence keeps her from being completely alone.    
  
Oh, she wishes she could go to Wyatt. Just crawl into his arms, and pretend like this whole mess never happened. But she can't, she betrayed him, and he may have made a case for letting her come back, but she's not foolish enough to think he did it for her. He did it because he refused to abandon his child.   
  
"You've been having nightmares," Flynn says suddenly. She glances at him, but his gaze is fixed firmly on the screen. He seems to be forcing the words out. "About your child."    
  
"I-yes," she admits, because she has. It's why she's been staying up until all hours of the night, passing out on the couch at two and three in the morning. If she closes her eyes, she sees things-horrible things-happening to her child, and she can't- "How did you know?"    
  
"My wife was the same way." He swallows. "When she was pregnant with our little girl."    
  
Wife? Little girl? "You're married?"    
  
Now he does look at her, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "Wyatt didn't tell you?"    
  
"No?" Come to think of it, Wyatt hasn’t told her much about Flynn. "He mostly said that you were dangerous. That I shouldn't trust you."    
  
He snorts. Seems to be on the verge of pointing out the irony there, but holds his tongue. "Yes," he says, a little belatedly. "I was married. Had a daughter. Iris."    
  
The words are matter-of-fact, but his shoulders are tense, and his jaw is set. "Had?" He nods sharply. "What happened?"    
  
He meets her eyes, something dark and dangerous lurking below the surface. For half a second, she can truly see exactly what Wyatt was warning her about. Can see the ferocity hidden beneath the snarky facade.    
  
"Rittenhouse."    
  
Her stomach drops. "I'm-I'm so-" She stammers, but he cuts her off sharply.   
  
"Don't." Then, softer, resigned: "Just... Don't."    
  
Silence settles between them once again, and she fights the urge to scurry away from him. Irrationally, she can't help but glance down at the tea, can't help but question what he put in it. If maybe he feels like paying her back for his loss.    
  
Of course, he notices. Settles back against the seat with a scowl. "If I were trying to kill you, you'd notice. Believe me. And as long as you're..." He gestures to her stomach vaguely. "I've promised Lucy I won't hurt you. Unless you betray us again. In that case..” A deadly smile. “All bets are off."   
  
It shouldn't be remotely reassuring, but somehow, it is. She does believe him. If for no other reason than, she knows he wouldn't lie to Lucy.    
  
She takes a moment to collect her thoughts, before clearing her throat. "Why are you telling me this? About your wife, I mean?”   
  
He hesitates. Opens his mouth, then closes it, seeming to debate something with himself. His gaze flickers to his own drink, thumbs tracing the edges of the cup. "I don't-I don't know," he admits, finally.    
  
It's strange; for all that Rittenhouse has called him a dangerous monster, he seems oddly small now, almost hunched in on himself.

He may not know, but she thinks she might; he’s telling her because he has no choice. Because it isn’t in him to leave her suffering and alone, when he knows he can help. She thinks that, for all Wyatt told her, Flynn might be there simply because he is, at his heart, a better man than he would like to believe.   
  
Briefly, she considers letting conversation drop. But he _ did _ bring it up, and she  _ has _ been having nightmares. If, for whatever reason, he's letting her in, she might as well take the opportunity to learn. "How did your wife-" He stiffens, and she hesitates, before continuing. "How did she deal with them? The nightmares, I mean."    
  
He hums. Considers. "She would wake me up," he replies slowly. "And I'd hold her until she fell back asleep. She said that helped, some."    
  
Suddenly wary, she weighs his words, studying him, and he rolls his eyes.   
  
"Believe me," he drawls, "That wasn't an offer. But..." His gaze skirts to the nearby hallway, and he grudgingly nods. "Wyatt's a good guy." It clearly pains him to say it, and she can barely stifle a laugh. "If you tell him what's going on..."    
  
"He'll definitely forget about the time I lied to him and got his best friend killed," she deadpans, and to her surprise, his lip twitches.    
  
"Well... Rufus got better," he offers, and she can’t quite stop the laugh bubbling up inside. “Besides, Wyatt blames Emma for that. Not you.” Jiya, on the other hand, has hardly looked her in the eye since her return. “Go to him. The worst he can do is say no.” He clears his throat, and any traces of friendliness fade from his face. “Or, you could sit here and suffer. Believe me, I don’t care.” 

With that, he rises, leaving her alone with her tea and her thoughts. Her gaze lingers on the hallway, considering his words, considering her options. Images flicker through her mind, half-memories of violent dreams, and finally, she swallows hard. Stands. And forces herself to walk.

The worst thing he can do is say no. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think? I hoard reviews like a fandom dragon.


End file.
